


You Can Hear It in the Silence

by prosopopeya



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode Fix-it, Episode Related, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2714132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosopopeya/pseuds/prosopopeya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2x09 ends in an unacceptable cliffhanger about Mack's fate. This ficlet fixes that.</p><p>It also involves smooching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Hear It in the Silence

The bottom of this well is too far away and not near enough.

"Can you see anything?" He's fogging up the mask of suit, but he doesn't care; he's frantically craning his neck, trying to see, but he can't make anything out yet.

"No," Jemma says again, just as patiently as the first five times he asked.

"Just a little further now." Coulson, while trying to soothe Fitz, also clearly wants him to stop asking, and Fitz makes a small noise and focuses on reaching the ground. Right now, Mack means far more to him than whatever alien city they may find down here; the science is important, of course, but he can't think past making sure Mack is alright.

Because they're going to make sure Mack is alright. There aren't any other options, nothing else he can accept. He needs Mack to be okay; he -- he _needs_ Mack so that _Fitz_ can be okay.

Once his feet touch the ground, he's instantly ripping himself free of the rope that lowered him down and scanning the area for Mack, though his helmet is cutting into his peripheral vision. He hears Jemma first, a quiet, soft _oh no_ that he can understand after years and years of paying attention to the nuances and inflections of her voice.

He whips around, and his heart beats wildly in his chest because there's Mack, laying on the ground; he looks crumpled, like someone balled him up and threw him away, and Fitz feels a sob try to tear its way out of his chest as he takes an uncertain step toward the body.

"Guys?"

Is he hallucinating Mack already? That's Mack's voice, echoing in the chamber, but it can't be real because Mack's slumped in front of him, blood seeping into the dirt.

"Oh thank God!"

Is he hallucinating Jemma along with his Mack hallucination? Is it all coming back, just from seeing Mack dead? He turns around, bewildered and off balance, and he sees Mack, his eyes a normal color, confusion on his face as he looks between Simmons, Coulson, Bobbi, and Fitz.

"What happened?"

He thinks the others explain what happened up there, and he thinks that Mack explains that he touched something on the floor, and then there were weird symbols in his skin, and then something tore its way out of his body, something that happened to be a clone of himself that promptly knocked the real Mack out.

He thinks all that happens, but Fitz can't do anything, can only stare at Mack moving, talking, with all his blood inside his body (except for that little around where the fake Mack attacked him).

And then finally Mack looks at him, his smile a soft thing, something that reminds Fitz of lazy games of X-Box and discussions over the parts of an engine, the smell of grease and sweat, a metallic tang that comforts him to his very core.

"What's up, Turbo? Look like you've seen a ghost."

Fitz blinks a few times, takes a few stilted steps. His hands manage to do something right, though he doesn't notice at the time; he isn't paying attention really when he takes off his helmet, when he drops it on the ground, when he lets his legs carry him over to Mack, standing close enough that he has to tilt his head to look up at him.

Mack's eyes are soft, and if anything else is going on, if anyone else is saying anything, Fitz doesn't care. Mack's _alive_ , Mack's _okay_ , and Fitz is so happy that he could kiss him. Fitz wants to kiss him -- wants to kiss him very much -- and he thinks that he should now, in this moment that's full of people being alive, and not one that's tainted with death.

His fist bunches in Mack's shirt -- a clumsy thing, since he's still wearing that suit -- but he manages to pull Mack down, and then he clamps his other hand behind his neck, and then he pulls him in for a kiss, fierce and relieved and happy and desperate, desperate for the reassurance, desperate to press all the kisses he can against his lips before something has a chance to take him away from him again.

Finally, though, Fitz does hear someone else's voice.

"Alright, alright. Hey -- _hey_." Coulson's hand closes around his shoulder, and he pulls at Fitz, though Fitz doesn't go very far. He can't, not when he's holding onto Mack this tightly, and not when Mack is holding him back with an equal force, one arm wound around his waist.

"How about you two take a rain check on this so we can focus on the alien temple that makes evil clones of people?"

Fitz flushes and releases his hold on Mack, and Mack smiles, ruffles his hair, and then stoops to hand him back his helmet. The screen is streaked with dirt now, and when Fitz pulls it on, Mack licks his thumb, then swipes it clean.

Behind him, he thinks maybe he can hear Coulson scoff, and then he starts giving Bobbi orders. When Fitz turns around, the first person he sees is Jemma.

Jemma is beaming. He doesn't think he's ever seen her this happy before, not in any of their long years of scientific and academic success, and they had many very satisfying triumphs. When she catches him looking at her, her smile changes a little, becomes something that's for other people, not just for herself, and she gives him a small, shy nod. He gives her one back.

Mack's hand settles on his shoulder, and slowly, Fitz comes back into the moment, just in time for Coulson to give him an order.

He's ready.


End file.
